


Staying In Context

by Anonymous



Series: dnf stuff [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Guilt, Heavy Themes, Longing, M/M, Masturbation, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Slow Burn, Writing practice, are we in a forrest? you can smell the pine, dream is a mess in this, dreamnotfound, i wrote this instead of updating a fic i've been meaning to update since november, like a lot of fluff, moving in, somewhat regular updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:53:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29284851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The ghost of George’s laughter floats lazily out of him, his deep eyes meeting Dream's and sticking. His face is flushed with rouge, dark hair tousled and the light stubble on his jaw making him look more linear than normal. It's striking. And Beautiful.Dream’s not blind. He’s not stupid. As much as he likes to tell himself lies, he knows the real reason his breath catches when George catches him off guard. Why George being gone affects him so viscerally. He knows that the syrupy feeling that consumes him when George is around has a name; and that name isn’t ‘friendship’. He knows the real reason he wants George to stay so bad. And it’s not just due to the closeness they share.-----------Taking place two years in the future, George decides to move to America- but wants his own place. Dream thinks this is ridiculous, since house has ample rooms, and could easily accommodate him. He decides to persuade his friend to stay, but trying to convince George to stay proves harder than he thought, especially when there are more layers to the situation than Dream knows, or is willing to acknowledge.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: dnf stuff [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150607
Kudos: 19
Collections: anonymous





	Staying In Context

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I really hope y'all like this! Updates should be about weekly. I don't have a solid plan about where this is going, but I have a few ideas.

The cold air that filters in through the window sinks under Dream’s skin like fishing hooks. The bright, empty room looks full of potential and he can’t help the wide grin that splits his face. 

“Dude, you could put the tv over here, and like your couch over here- Oo! Oo! Or you could like, have the cat tree in this corner and the the dog’s-” 

“Dream!” George’s pixelated voice interrupts him with a laugh. “I told you, I’ll find a place when I get there.” 

The excitement buzzing in Dream’s veins doesn’t quell at his friend’s words. 

“I know I’m just really happy that you’re coming.” He looks down at his phone. George’s face is pink with his smile and Dream feels fondness roll over him like thick, warm honey. 

“Me too.” George says. 

A sigh slips past Dream. “I still don’t know why you _wouldn’t_ want to live with me.” He’s unsure if it’s the wrong thing to say but he really doesn’t understand, even if he's joking about it. A little part of it hurts, Dream’s got enough rooms to where it wouldn't make a difference if George was there or not. Of course, it _would_ make a difference to Dream, his best friend being under the same roof and all. 

“Dream…” The tone George takes is lofty, avoidant. This is a topic they haven't really been able to talk about without arguing. Nothing has been serious, more like a debate, but it still stings under Dream’s ribs a bit that George doesn't want to live with him. He completely gets why though. George likes space, he likes being adjacent to loved ones. Near but not crowding them and vice versa. He’s a private person. Dream knows all this. The need to be close fills him even still. 

“I’m still staying with you for like a month before I move out.” Reassurance sometimes feels like compromise. “Also why are _you_ looking at flats for me if you want me to live with you so bad.” The light, airy laugh is back in George's voice. Dream never stopped smiling but somehow his face splits again. Maybe his grin just got bigger. 

“I know, I know. And I just want the best- and closest- _apartment_ for you George.” He says, flipping the camera to face him instead of the giant room in front of them. 

“ _Apartment_.” George mocks. 

“Oh come on- _Flat_ ,” Dream shoots back, “that word doesn't make sense.” 

“Whatever.” 

“ _Wateva._ ” 

“Oh my gooood why are you such an idiot.” George says, but he's laughing again, no trace of seriousness in his voice whatsoever. 

“Yeah, yeah, just get here faster.” 

\------------

Dream rocks from his heels to his toes, his feelings as tall as the concrete ceiling above him. Eyes stuck on the sliding glass doors, his anticipation mounts. This isn't the first time he's met up with George. Not even the second. But Dream can't help the swelling excitement. This time it's different. This time George isn't going back across the ocean, this time Dream doesn't have to leave. George is here to stay. And this is exciting. 

Finally, _finally_ , the doors open and a disgruntled looking George shuffles out, two large suitcases and a heavy looking back pack in toe. George spots him almost immediately and smiles that silly, wide George smile. He wastes no time crossing to Dream’s lane. 

“These are heavy as shit.” George says, and then he’s letting go of the two suitcases, they clatter to the ground with a solid thud and before Dream can recognize what's happening, George's arms are around him. It takes Dream a moment, and then he’s hugging back. He lets himself feel grounded by his friend’s wiry frame, the soft humid-stickiness of his hair, and the way he smells faintly of lemongrass. It's all so familiar, yet still so exhilarating. George is _here_ , and he's here to stay. Dream squeezes a little tighter. 

They load his suitcases, which are way heavier than what Dream was expecting. 

“Holy shit, did you pack rocks or something?” Dream astonishes. 

“Dream,” George's face is flat “I literally moved _continents_.” 

Fair point. 

The drive is short and boisterous, the palm trees flying by, back lit by the magenta fade of the setting sun. Obnoxious neon signs race past, electric and bright, just like the feeling thats glowing in Dream’s chest. They pull up to Dream's house just as the colors in the sky are fading to a rich purple, the clouds deeping to an indigo. A perfect, lovely contrast in Dream’s opinion. 

“Alright, the room you usually stay in is ready, what do you want for dinner?” Dream asks, popping the trunk and pulling out the first of the suitcases. 

George shrugs. “I don't know, do you have anything here?” 

He does actually. “Yeah, I’d have to cook for you, I know you're tired- can you stick out like 30 mins?” 

A nod. They're in the foyer now, and in the light Dream can see just how tired George looks. His hair is messy, his eyelids heavy over his dark brown eyes, and there are dark rings under his eyes. George looks soft and sleepy, and once again, fondness flows over Dream. 

“Can you pull the meat out of the fridge for me,” Dream speaks lightly, quietly “I’ll take your bags up to your room.” 

“Yeah I can, beef?” 

Dream nods and is off. He's so unbearably giddy. Practically giggling as he lays down George's suitcases, and sets his backpack on the arm chair in his room. He stands there for a moment, letting that stupid grin from earlier seep back on to his face. His best friend was going to be in the same city as him. Probably not even 2 minutes away after he moved out. They could do things the regular way now. Like watch movies while being in the same room. Grab lunch together, or talk about video ideas over dinner. Discuss business face to face. They can just be friends in the normal way and not have to worry about a steady internet connection or time zones. They can just _be_. He takes a moment to just let that sink in, letting it feel real. Letting the dream become a reality. 

He’s back down stairs quickly. George’s head is nestled in his arms, elbows resting on the island, a nice cut of steak in front of him. 

“You chose a good one.” Dream says casually as he pulls out a few spices. 

“Well you kind of forced me to learn didn’t you.” George says glibly, though the sparkle in his eyes tells Dream he’s anything but bored. 

“I guess I did, your fault though, you wanted to go grocery shopping with me last july.” 

George snorts, “Yeah, because you definitely didn’t beg me to come along.”

“I didn’t!”

“Sure, Dream, sure.” 

The meat hits the pan with a satisfying sizzle. Dream reaches for a pot next, and turns to face his friend again. 

“What do you want for your veggies.” 

George scrunches his nose in a way that is just too cute, his eyebrows furrowing. “Does it have to be vegetables?” The scrutiny in his voice makes Dream huffle out a soft laugh. 

“Oh come on George, you’re a growing boy, you need your greens!” 

“I’m older than you.” 

“You can’t tell by the way you act.”

George scoffs. 

“Says you.”

“Hey what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You need to flip your meat dipshit.”

Dream’s head whips around and sure enough the steak did need to be flipped. 

\-----

In the end they settled on having broccoli and pre-made mashed potatoes for the sides. The portions were fairly small since Dream had eaten earlier that day and George is tiny. 

They cleaned quickly, rinsing the plates and pans then stacking them to be put up in the morning. After, they went their separate ways, George to his room and Dream to his. 

As Dream settled into bed he let his mind wander, rewinding over the day's events. He let himself think about Goerge’s face, the perfect subtlety in which his friend communicated was something he always missed. Admittedly, it was hard to read George when he wasn’t right in front of you. His tone was always perfectly schooled into whatever George desired. Dream both hated and loved that he could do that. He loved that Goerge wasn’t always so on the nose when streaming, that the things he felt didn’t bleed into every word he said. He has the anonymity Dream wishes he could embody. On the other hand though, it was hard in the context of being Goerge’s friend. When he was far away, only communicating through screens and microphones it was hard to tell what his friend was thinking. If something was bothering him or if he was upset, Dream was never able to tell. It bothered him. He wants to be there for Goerge. George who’s not good with his words and hates talking about how he feels in any capacity. But in person he can tell. George’s body is like a book, and Dream finds himself reading it way too often when George is around. Unlike most things about Goerge, his body isn’t subtle. At least, not to Dream. His face floods scarlet when he’s flustered. There's a dramatic, rhythmic rise and fall to his chest when he’s angry. Wringing hands when he’s embarrassed, and the way he seems to freeze when something surprises him. All things the camera can’t quite capture. 

Dream finds himself smiling in the dark. He wouldn’t ever have to extrapolate or wonder. George would be right beside him now. Though, he really wishes Goerge would stay with him. In his home. His house was huge, and it got lonely with him being the only one occupying it. The moments of silence after his friends and family left for the day hit him hard. It was deafening, the lack that he was left with afterwards. More than anyone else, George’s absences somehow hit the hardest. He was his best friend, his partner, and in many ways his other half. George even just being under the same roof filled him with a certainty that he didn’t otherwise have. It was reassuring, damn near addicting. Partly that’s why he wants George to just take the room he already has designated for him. To make Dream’s home his as well. Dream thinks of dinner, the light banter, the causal tones and sleepy atmosphere. He wants that every night. He wants to be able to annoy Goerge or gloat when he wins a challenge. He just wants Goerge to stay. 

Though it’s not like George will be gone for good when he walks out the front door. He’ll be down the street, or a couple blocks over. Which, in all fairness, should satisfy Dream. It isn’t as if He wouldn’t be spending almost every day with the other. But it just didn’t feel right. If he was here, Dream wanted him _here_ . Maybe that was a bit controlling. Was it? Probably. But ever since he first met George in person, Dream had the overwhelming urge to be beside him. The feeling was simply just a symptom of their lives being so entangled. To have George near, it just felt _right._

The decision was made. Dream was going to convince George to live with him. Under the same roof. Because in all honesty, it was absolutely ridiculous that George would be paying rent when he had a perfectly good, free, room here. It was ridiculous that he would have to walk over every time they had business to conduct, or spend gas to meet somewhere. It was ridiculous, and so Dream made up his mind to make George stay. 

  
  


\----------

Waking up the next morning Dream realizes he has no doesn't know how he’s going to get George to stay. He rolls over in bed eyeing the digital clock by the bed. 9:48am peers back at him in cool blue. He groans. A perfectly reasonable time to wake up at though he knows he’s going to be the only one up for at least four more hours. George usually handles jet lag like a champ, sleeping for like fourteen hours and then not feeling any lasting effects after. Usually Dream is impatient, needling with anticipation for his friend to wake up, which makes him feel like a little kid at a sleepover. But this time he’s grateful. He needs the time to think about what he’s going to say to the other, what points he needs to make in order for it to seem logical enough. Because it _is_ the logical answer here. There are only a few reasons Dream can think of as to why George would need to move somewhere else. He just needs to show George what the benefits of staying under one roof are. 

He takes his time getting ready for the day, spending extra time in the shower. Soap bubbles along his skin as he lets his brain work. George is a person who values comfort and space, he’s kind of like a cat in that aspect. Provide what he needs, wants, and let him come around. Finding out what George’s wants and needs are is a whole other story. Dream figures that part is going to have to be done through a bit of trial and error. He rinses and shuts off the water. 

George is awake by the time Dream finishes cooking lunch. He shuffles in, hair a mess and still a bit bleary-eyed, his plain white night shirt hanging off him in a way that obscures his blue striped boxers. He looks cozy. 

“You look like you need a shower.” Dream comments casually, knowing exactly what kind of response he’s going to get. 

George huffs, “Good morning to you too.” he says sarcastically, swinging himself back onto the bar stool he used last night. 

Dream laughs lightly. “I made chicken and roasted potatoes if you’re hungry.”

“Why do you make every meal so fancy.” George muses. Dream takes that as a yes, and starts to make him a plate. 

“Just because it’s home cooked doesn’t mean it’s fancy, _George_.” He sets George’s plate down in front of him as he says his name. There's a satisfying ‘clink’ of porcelain hitting granite and then his friend is digging in. 

“Ah yes would you like some _roasted potatoes_ cooked with _rosemary infused olive oil_ and seasoned with _Himalayan pink salt_ and _minced garlic_ at 1pm on a wednesday it’s not fancy at all.”

Dream laughs harder this time, Goerge’s words lilting comically in an attempt at a posh accent. 

“Ok, ok. You got me there.” His voice evens to a chuckle as a comfortable silence befalls the pair. 

They eat in peace, Dream carefully watching George’s face to make sure the food is to his liking. He finds his answer in the soft tilt upwards of George’s lips and the low, nearly inaudible hum he lets out every now and then after a bite. Warmth floods Dream’s chest. It’s like that honied feeling he gets, sweet, slow and natural. There’s one thing; George would always have someone to cook for him. He wouldn’t ever need to make himself anything if he didn’t want, wouldn’t ever need to pay for groceries. 

“My dog and cat are supposed to get here around 8pm.” George says conversationally, a few stray potato slices left on his plate. 

“Oh, yeah! I hope they get along with patches. Do you need to pick them up from the airport?” 

“Yeah, so if you don’t mind giving me a lift-”

“I don’t mind at all.”

“Ok. Um. Good.” George sighs, as if Dream would ever say no. 

George hadn’t been able to take his pets on the plane with him. Something about space and cost. Dream had listened but the specifics were lost on him. 

“You know,” Dream starts, the suggestion forming in his mind “We could go out to dinner. I know a few places around with pet friendly patios.” 

George considers the suggestion for a moment. Then he makes up his mind, “Yeah that sounds cool.” 

  
  


\---------

The pet pick up goes smoothly. With Dog and Cat in tow, they make their way downtown. 

As they move down the avenue, the bright lights remind Dream of last night and the bubbling excitement that filled him. Remnants still shift within him, not gone, just settling. The high is over, and now it’s just a light buzz under Dream’s skin. He turns his head to look at Goerge. 

What he’s not really expecting is for his breath to be sucked away from him. 

George is turned in his seat and the flying lights paint his face in rapid portraits, making his hair a halo of color and light. His deep eyes reflect a rainbow of neon, an unconscious content smile framed on his face. His pale skin seems to glow like the rest of him, and Dream is reminded of the moon in how delicately the light falls over the swath of pale skin of his neck. 

Dream wasn’t blind, he knew his best friend was pretty, but sometimes it hit him hard just _how_ pretty he was. It’s a feeling Dream wasn’t unused to. Frequently, George managed to catch him off guard and it just sort of slams into Dream like a semi. None of his other friends quite managed to make the air leave his lungs in quite the same way. Sometimes Dream thinks it’s insecurity. Compared to George, he is overwhelmingly average. Others, he sometimes thinks that, like other feelings surrounding Goerge, it’s simply another symptom of knowing him so thoroughly, like his itch to be close. Perhaps it’s both. Dream, though, has stopped wondering when it comes to George. 

They finally pull into a parking spot and unload. Dream takes the dog’s leash. 

“I’ll get us a table.” 

George looks up, he’s half bent over, arms messing with something in the back of the car. “Do you mind getting somewhere there’s not a lot of people?” 

Straightening, Dream can see he has the cat carrier in hand. He nods. “Yeah, definitely, I can see what I can do.” 

Dream waltzes up to the host, confident in his stride. “Hi!” He beams at the young man “Table for two and if you have seating in a low traffic area, that would be preferable.” 

The guy returns his smile. “I can sure do that for you!”

He takes Dream and Dog around to the back of the restaurant, Dream glances behind and sees George is following along a few paces behind them. He looks a bit comical, the large, heavy carrier hanging off his slight figure. Dream snickers, it doesn’t go unnoticed judging by the way George glowers at him. They both sit down and are handed menus. It’s clear that George isn’t too comfortable, his arms moving to loop around his stomach, hands playing with the hem of his shirt. 

Dream sets his menu down. “He dude, you good?” He asks, knowing he probably isn’t going to get a straight answer. 

“Yeah, um, it’s just,” Hesitation, “It’s just new.” 

In a way he gets what he means. The casualness, the domesticity of sitting at an outdoor restaurant, dog in toe, just the two of them. And more from George’s perspective, the _Americanness_ of it all. He has no doubt that George has been in large public spaces before, but there's a unique exposure in the large decking, loud music, bright lights and an absence of a roof. The smells and colors are vibrant, bold, and distinctly different from the english style. It’s almost uncanny, with how slight the differences are, but they are there and it’s enough to make anybody new feel singled out. And it’s not like Goerge hasn’t been to a restaurant like this, they’ve had plenty of outings when they met up before, but it surely had to be different knowing that this was going to be the norm. 

“I get that,” Dream says sympathetically, he sends the other what he hopes is a reassuring smile. 

“I don’t think it’s nerves though,” George offers quietly. Dream is a bit taken aback by the sudden honesty. George continues, “I think it’s just all the excitement. Like, I think anticipation is more the right word.” 

Feather light something falls onto Dream like fresh snow. His smile slides up a little, and he can feel his eyes crinkle. 

“I’m glad,” He replies just as softly, “It’s nice to not have an ocean between us.” 

George smiles at him sweetly. 

“Speaking of being together, when is Sapnap supposed to get here again?”

Dream had nearly forgotten the other was supposed to join them at some point. Blinking slowly, he wraps his brain. 

“Uh, I think Nick is supposed to be here on the 12th of next month.” 

“ _Nick._ ” George mocks in a faux american accent. Dream just rolls his eyes. 

“Ok _George_.” His british accent is atrocious, but it draws a rich laugh from George. It’s not quite the kind that leaves him rolling in his chair, out of breath and pink. But it's the kind that makes George throw his head back, exposing the birth marks on and under his jaw. 

“Ok but seriously,” He wheezes “We should find out when he’s coming up. Preferably I’d like to move out after he moves in, if that’s ok with you?” George meets his eyes. 

“George, you know how I feel about you moving out,” George’s gaze shifts elsewhere, rose petals blooming along his cheeks “You don’t have to consult me. I don’t care how long you stay.” 

_I’d actually prefer if you stayed forever_. Is what he wants to say, but doesn’t. 

“I know I just-” George is cut off by their waiter. They give their orders and he shuffles back off into the crowd. 

Dream refocuses on George, but it’s too late. The walls, that he didn’t even realize had been pulled down, were back up. He elects to try anyways. 

“You just, what?” He supplies. 

George’s face is schooled, blank, giving him the illusion of pondering. “I honestly can’t remember what I was going to say.” 

Maybe it’s the truth, maybe it’s not, all Dream knows is now isn’t the time to push. 

“Anyways, I was thinking we could stream tomorrow?” Dream offers. He’s done the face reveal, though he rarely shows his face if ever, but this was a big event, an event his fans didn’t know about quite yet. And that’s why he suggests, “We could do it with a face cam. The fans would love that.” 

“That’s actually not a terrible idea.” George agrees amicably, loosening up once again. 

“Well, believe it or not I actually have good ideas sometimes.”

“Emphasis on sometimes.”

“Ok ‘Mr. Popping Off’.” Dream shoots back with a smirk. 

George groans. “Oh come on, that was years ago.” Dream laughs. 

“It was only two.”

“Like I said, _years_.”

“Ok but the use of _years_ implies it’s been a lot more than _two_.”

“Oh. My. God. You are insufferable.” 

“You love it.” Dream says with a wink and George flushes. Seven years of friendship, and some things remain constant. Like Dreams unyielding ability to make his best friend flustered with absolute, minimal effort. He kind of liked this power he had over the other. It was funny and exhilarating at the same time. 

\-----

When they got home it was nearly 10:45. This aside, both of their energies are still high, George in a state of chaos, and Dream feeding off and into it. Magnetic, would be the only way Dream could properly put it into words. The whirlwind of it lands them in the living room, shoes and coats thrown haphazardly onto the floor, George draped over the couch, and Dream criss cross on the floor, trying and failing miserably to throw popcorn into George’s mouth. Some random pre-recorded game plays in the background. 

“Goh your shih at his.” George says around a mouth full of popcorn from past attempts. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over how absolutely baller I am.” 

George laughs, and this time it's manic and breathy.

Caught in the moment, Dream let's himself think of how he never has to hear that laugh through layers of static ever again. That he could just pester it out of him whenever he feels like it. 

He comes back to reality as a piece of soggy popcorn hits the side of his head. Whipping around he sees George wearing a shit eating-ly innocent face. The small push and pull at the corners of his lips, the near perfect containment of laughter, is what gives George away. 

“Was this in your fucking mouth?” Dream asks, slightly disgusted, weirdly flattered.

“Definitely not.” George says, voice decidedly flat. That little shit. 

“You’re disgusting.”

“Am not- Dream- _Dream_ -” Dream is on his feet, moving towards his friend with his arms outstretched, his fingers splayed wide.

“Dream look I-” George’s assumed plea for mercy is cut off by his own laughter as Dream stabs his fingers into George’s sides. 

High pitched laughter fills the lower floor, George writhing below him. He reaches for Dream’s hands with his own, a weak attempt to pry them away from his abdomen. This plan is foiled, for Dream easily intercepts the others' counter attack, catching George's wrists with one hand. Just one of his hands is almost enough to completely engulf both George's long slender ones. There's a pause in his assault, his free hand temporarily resting on the soft skin above George’s sharp hip bones.

The ghost of George’s laughter floats lazily out of him, his deep eyes meeting Dream's and sticking. His face is flushed with rouge, dark hair tousled and the light stubble on his jaw making him look more linear than normal. It's striking. And Beautiful. 

Dream’s not blind. He’s not stupid. As much as he likes to tell himself lies, he knows the real reason his breath catches when George catches him off guard. Why George being gone affects him so viscerally. He knows that the syrupy feeling that consumes him when George is around has a name; and that name isn’t ‘friendship’. He knows the real reason he wants George to stay so bad. And it’s not just due to the closeness they share. 

Admitting that he knows is a lot harder. It complicates things. 

So he ignores it, pushes it down, explains it away. And so far, it’s worked quite well, so why stop now. 

It’s just going to be harder to keep up the facade. A lot harder. There's going to be more moments like this one. Where Dream dances with the idea of burning the bridge, being brutal with the honesty of his feelings. Harder it’ll be, because as strong as the temptation to speak is, Dream wants George to stay. 

And somewhere deep inside he feels like if he were to slip up, if he were to break like a vase and spill his contents, George would leave and never come back.

Dream releases George's wrists, removing the pressure pressing into his friend, and slides his legs up. He straightens. George’s eyes track his movements, his hands frozen in the air where Dream caught them. Surprised. He wishes he knew if the flush on his friend’s face was just from the tickling or if it were something else. 

Doesn't matter, George sits up and Dream smirks. “I win.” Dream murmurs just loud enough to be heard by both of them. George still just watches him, something resting on his body Dream can't seem to decipher. It drives him crazy. 

“Anyway, it's a bit late,” Dream backs up further, turning his back to George. He raises his arms above his head as he stretches. “I’m going to go to bed.” 

“Weak.” George taunts from behind him. Dream wants so badly to turn around and show George how false that statement is. But he doesn’t. 

“Yeah, yeah. You should also go to bed. I don’t want to be out of sync.” Dream picks up his coat and shoes. Dog is sniffing the discarded bowl of popcorn, so Dream scoops it up before she has a chance to explore it further. 

“Ugh I mean I guess.” George whines. 

“Also remember I’ve been up longer than you, Mr. Sleeping Beauty.”

Dream smiles, he can’t see George rolling his eyes, but he knows that’s what he’s doing. There shuffling behind him as Dream sets the bowl down on the counter.

Then there are arms around his middle, and George’s body is pressing into his back. Dream freezes, not expecting the contact.

“Thank you,” George’s words are barely a mumble, and Dream can feel the vibrations through his back. “I’m really really happy I’m here.” 

Dream’s face flushes. His friend isn’t one for emotional displays, let alone ones with words. He turns around, carefully shifting in the other’s arms, and hugs him back. 

That same lemongrass smell hits him again as he returns the embrace, encircling his arms around George’s shoulders and resting his head atop the other’s. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, and squeezing firmly. 

“Me too.” He whispers 

The embrace lasts a while, they sway back and forth in the kitchen, George’s face buried in Dream's chest, and Dream’s nose nuzzled in George’s hair. 

After that they part with soft smiles, and Dream goes to his room, and George to his. 

\-------

Dream lays in bed once again, the ceiling staring at him in the dark. The longing in his chest drumming deep and slow. 

This was going to be hard. 

**Author's Note:**

> Any criticism is greatly appreciated! I do this for writing practice so any suggestions are more than welcome. If y'all have time I have another fic under the name 'Error 404', if you guys have time, I would greatly appreciate it it you would check it out. I'm probably going to make a collection of works with all of my stuff, so yeah. :3 I hope you guys enjoy.


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